A grey sky stretches on endlessly, fat drops of moisture falling, as if for ever. The vibrant shades of the valley are muted, leaves covered with a wet sheen that serves to reflect back the many colours of grey.
The sound is soft, comforting. The constant splodge of hundreds of fat droplets into ever-growing puddles, the smell of the earth as the top crust gives way to saturation, turning brown-black, forming lakes and mountains in miniature, water stirring up the energy in the ground.
Inside, the rain hammers on the plastic roof of the conservatory, harsh almost, tuning to the beat of the sky. I pull on a coat and wander outside, braving the coldness to turn my face to the sky, feeling that first raw shock, followed by freshness as the water hits my bare face. Too many of us hibernate indoors during the rain, staring at a TV, eyes flickering fake colours. Too many of us miss the gentle cleansing, the soft greys, the gladness of the trees and plants.
It’s easy to worry about our hairstyle being ruined, or getting our clothes wet. It’s easy to run from our cars to our houses, limiting, ignoring the experiences that await just outside in this rain. Throw caution to the wind. Dance barefoot in freezing puddles, feel the raindrops on your face and running down your neck, squeal and giggle as the chill hits your skin. Take off your hats and shake your hair in the rain, feel wild, feel free.
It’s just a rainstorm, sure. But sometimes just a rainstorm is exactly what we need.